


You've Got A Friend In Me

by Sodap0pblue



Category: Football RPF, Real Person Fiction, Sports RPF, real madrid
Genre: Father-Son Relationship, Multi, Other, Real Madrid CF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:22:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sodap0pblue/pseuds/Sodap0pblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James gets seriously injured during a game. Iker is the one stand by him. (not a slash)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Good game” Sergio clapped Iker on the shoulder on their way back to the dressing room.

Iker replied with a smile though he was much too preoccupied by a whispered conversation going on between his old Captain (and childhood boogieman) Hierro with Ancelotti.  He couldn’t make up the words for the men were really trying their best to appear casual, masking their voices behind the screams of excitement all over the Bernabeu stadium, Ancelotti’s tensely raised eyebrow was a giveaway of something grim.

“The doctor said no less than a month…” Iker accidently-on-purpose managed to overhear as he walked right past them. He immediately stopped dead before the two men, not willing to pretend he wasn’t interested.

“You’re talking about the kid, right? James” his eyes went back and forth several times between Hierro and Ancelotti. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Not quite sure yet. But it doesn’t look good, he might have to stay out for months” Hierro answered immediately, earning himself a rather disdainful glare from the manager. “What? He’s the Captain, he should know”

Iker scratched his beard thoughtfully, ignoring Isco who had been screaming his name from the dressing room, trying really hard to get his attention.

“There is nothing we can do but wait for the results” Carlo answered to the question Iker was not daring to ask, “If he can’t play, we sign Lucas Silva in January”

“He’ll be devastated” said Iker impulsively. Truth was he knew how that kid must’ve felt. It wasn’t that long ago when he was heavily injured himself and was forced to the bench, out of the team, unable to defend his career as some other keeper slowly took over his place.

“He’s tough, he’ll survive it” said Hierro, using the kind of soft tone Iker rarely remembered him taking back in the day when he was his Captain. Though, truth be told, Fernando had changed a lot through the past decade, they both had. Hierro went from being his always angry Captain to a remarkably patient assistant manager. Unlike Iker, who went from being a sweet, goofy child all the way to the angry Captain his teammates were now afraid of.

Iker didn’t have anything to add to that conversation, other than the unpleasant twist at the pit of his stomach. He bade the two older men goodbye and made his way to the dressing room where Isco had kept yelling his name.

“CAPI!” Isco screamed and jumped on his arms excitedly the moment Iker entered the room. A little annoying habit he had recently developed every time the team had managed yet another win. It was always hard for Iker to understand how after 90 constant minutes of physical and emotional exhaustion, Isco still had the energy to scream, jump and joke about everything while all he felt like doing was going to sleep.

Seeing as the boy was always so happy to see him and was probably the only young player of his team that didn’t feel scared in his presence, Iker decided not to take his nerves out on Isco, and simply gave him a light smack at the back of the boy’s head, a smack that Isco received as a compliment.

* * *

 

After his duty as a Captain of congratulating his team on their latest win, Iker quickly took himself out of the spotlight and retreated at the back end of the room, where he choose his locker to be located. He was still the only one wearing his dirty jersey and shorts, as half his teammates were in towels ready to shower and others were already getting dressed in their normal, everyday clothes.

Sergio was next to him, fixing his hair for the past ten minutes and checking himself on the mirror that was attached to his locker.

“What’s up with you?” he asked his friend, using his left hand to press down a patch of hair.

“What do you mean?” Iker raised an eyebrow, though Sergio’s eyes were far too preoccupied checking his appearance to notice.

“You’re more grumpy than usual; I guess there is a reason”

Iker pulled his jersey and undershirt from over his head, before throwing it inside a bag, postponing that way the moment he had to answer Sergio’s question.

“It’s the kid” he said finally, acting indifferent.

Sergio looked round him at his teammates. At that point Isco, Jesé, Nacho and Asier, were starting a not very discreet dirty socks war against Varane, Dani, Kroos and Chicharito.

“Which one?”

“James”

Sergio felt a small nick of guilt as he let out an “oh” of comprehension. In his joy of winning the game, he had completely forgotten about James, who was forced early on out of the game after an injury.

“Is he really that bad?

“Probably…still waiting for the doctors to decide”

“But…he’ll be fine, right?” Sergio asked nervously, shutting his locker with a loud thud that went unheard in the combination of voices and screams of the locker room.

Sergio was the kind of person who never believed in bad things. He believed in justice and he always thought there is a way out of every bad situation. He was good that way.

Seeing him in such sudden distress, Iker decided to tone down the drama a little bit.

“Yeah, sure, he’ll be fine”


	2. Chapter 2

The locker room has been emptied. Isco was the last one to go before Iker. He turned round on his heel, sparing a moment to look back at his captain. Iker was still sitting on the wooden bench, next to his wide open locker and his half packed bag. His face was placed between his hands, his eyes staring blankly at the shoes with his son’s name written on them.

“Would you like to go get a drink?” asked Isco, dragging his feet to where his Captain sat. “Capi…?” he placed his hand on Iker’s shoulder.

“Mmm?” the man jerked out of his thoughts, “I’m sorry. Did you say anything?”

“Would you like to go get a drink with me?” Isco repeated in the same excited tone.

Iker rested his eyes on the boy before him for a few, short seconds, “no,” he used Isco’s shoulder to help him get up, “I should go home. And so should you, you’ve got training tomorrow” he added firmly.

Isco smiled followed by a small, hearty laugh.

“I will” he said and Iker knew that he meant it. “Should I help…?” he pointed at Iker’s stuff that was still all over the place, waiting to be packed.

“No…” the older man nodded, “its fine. Go home, rest” he lightly swatted the boy at the back of the head, directing him toward the exit.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The moment Isco left, Iker’s knees gave out and the man sat down again.  He still couldn’t understand how and most importantly why, James’ injury had affected him as much as it did. It clearly wasn’t personal. He liked the kid but he was new to the team and he barely had the chance to get to know him.

This was idiotic, a bad comparison between himself and the kid.

Deciding this was enough pointless weeping for one evening, Iker got up, threw his shoes and clothes inside his bag and quickly left the locker room.  It wasn’t until he reached the second corridor; when something, a cry as if of a wounded animal, forced him stop dead.

Iker strained his ears; until he heard the little cry again. It was coming from the staff door. It sounded like a trapped small dog, trying to regain its freedom. Why would a puppy be locked inside the Bernabeu?

Iker cursed from under his breath.

It must’ve been one of Nacho’s strays again. The boy did have a reputation for sneaking inside dogs, cats, birds and every other little animal he could find.

Feeling his blood pressure rise, Iker marched to the door, willing to let that poor animal out and already planning in his head the good slap he would have the pleasure to apply on Nacho’s face tomorrow.

“Nacho, I swear to god I’m going to kick your –” he burst into the room only to find himself in a situation he most certainly didn’t expect and would pay a very good amount of money to avoid.

The cries were in fact coming from the staff room as he predicted, but this was the only part he was right about. Inside the room was placed an examination bed. But the bed was unfortunately not empty. Little James was doing his best to get down from it, his injured leg swollen to the point it appeared to be twice its original size, was touching the floor every now and then, forcing the kid to produce the cries Iker heard from outside.

“You shouldn’t be doing this” Iker spoke calmly, watching James stubbornly trying to stand on his injured leg, his eyes filled with tears from the unbearable amount pain he was foolishly putting himself through.

James ignored him, and holding himself from the sides of the bed, he attempted to make the first step, however, Iker who still had full function of both his feet and could easily predict what would happen next, was there to catch him as the boy’s leg, unable to handle the pain, gave out.

“Don’t be an idiot!” the two men had a small lasting fight, as James who was convinced his leg was alright fought to free himself by punching and pushing Iker with all his might.

“Leave me alone!” James bellowed, his face bright red from the fighting, the pain and the anger that he felt filling every inch of his heart.

Iker had never seen him like this quite before. In his eyes James was the smiling Colombian boy, who was good and polite to everybody, always trying to learn and better himself.  He never thought it was possible to witness him in this situation.

“You’re going to hurt yourself” he said calmly, holding James down on the bed by his shoulders.

James snorted, “Didn’t you hear? I’m already hurt” tears began to stream down his face once again. “ _But I’m not_ ” he mouthed, “I just need to walk this off!” he gave one last try to get up but Iker was still pinning him down, much to the boy’s annoyance.

“Help me” James was now crying, his head tilting forward and onto Iker’s shoulder.

“I’m helping you” Iker loosened his grip on the boy; bringing his left hand to cradle his head. “You’re neither the first nor the last player to pick up an injury; you’ll be fine before you know it…” those words echoed inside his head, they were the same words Fernando once told him.

Iker’s thought was cut off rather abruptly, when a company of men, including Hierro and Ancelotti, burst inside the room.

“Iker?” Carlo raised an eyebrow but knew it wasn’t the right time to discuss Iker’s presence and so he immediately turned to look at James, whose face was still buried inside his captain’s shoulder. “James, it’s time for the surgeon to take another look” he said a little too casually as if he was announcing lunch time.

James didn’t say anything, but didn’t retaliate when Iker helped him lay down. He wiped his tears on his jersey and watched quietly as Iker left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

Once Iker found himself back into the corridor, he made his first attempt in order to escape the "James Rodriguez support group" that was now forming outside the staff room.

“I should go” he said casually and was just about to make his first steps towards freedom, when Ancelotti seized his upper arm, softly pulling him back.

“What were you doing in there?” he asked in that impassive tone he usually used when he didn’t know how to react in a situation and was waiting to figure out all the details.

Iker hunched his shoulders, “I heard him cry and went to see what’s wrong”

“Mhm…” Carlo murmured skeptically, “that’s good, he should feel the support of his teammates and Captain right now. Chances are he won’t get to play for a long time”

“How long?” the question as if slipped out of Iker’s tongue before he could stop it.

“Doctors are not sure. Could be six months, could be a year, could be forever” the man was very displeased to say. James was one of the biggest investments Real did that season and having spent that huge amount of money for a player who got terribly injured within two months, was the closest thing to a disaster in the manager world.

“Well, that’s unfortunate” Iker shook his head. He looked round him and seeing as he was nowhere near useful, he decided to leave and surely enough he got stopped, again. This time it was by the surgeon who was making his way out of the staff room. His legs stopped him from going any further; there was a need he couldn’t really explain, a need to know that James would be ok.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Hierro got to ask the doctor first.

“His x-rays just came in; he has a displaced fracture on his left tibia shaft. I was just letting him know he’ll need a surgery in order for us to put the pieces back together. If everything goes well he should be able to play again sometime next year”

“That’s good, good…” Carlo murmured but the doctor hurried to interrupt him.

“I’m afraid I don’t think that’s true, the surgery should be done within the next few hours if we’d like to save him recovery time” said the doctor, “however, the boy refused to sign the papers for the surgery”

Carlo’s eyebrow as if catapulted at the top of his forehead.

“He did what?” he asked, probably for a first time in his life being caught completely off guard.

“He refused to sign the release form” the doctor repeated, “He’s an adult. No surgery can be done without his concession, unless you’d like to sue him”

“We’re not going to sue him” said Hierro and Ancelotti in one breath, both looking rather disgruntledly at the doctor for even considering that option.

“I should go speak to him” Hierro took a step forward, facing the staff door. “We’ve all been there, we can change his mind”

Hierro went inside in a very purposeful pace, followed closely by Ancelotti. Iker was either too intrigued or just unable to move for he remained rooted to the spot, waiting for god knows what.

 

* * *

 

 

It must’ve been about half an hour later when the two men exited the room, looking puzzled and somewhat defeated.

“He won’t do it” guessed Iker, raising himself up from the floor.

The two men didn’t reply but both kept gazing at Iker, occasionally catching a glimpse of each other out of the corner of their eye, as if they were contemplating whether or not to speak up.

“Well, that went as expected” said Iker, lifting his head to look at the clock hanging from the wall, it was almost midnight and Sara would be worried. “I should go”

“No, wait” Carlo stopped him from leaving. “He wants to speak to you”

“Who? James?” Iker shook his head in complete and utter disbelief, “the kid wants to speak with me?”

“Yes” answered Carlo with a sigh, he was clearly just as puzzled as Iker by James’ strange request. For all he knew, James was secretly afraid of his captain and he would never guess the kid would seek for him in a time of trouble.

“Why…?” Iker took an uncomfortable step back, feeling strangely threatened. “He barely knows me”

“We don’t know” said Carlo and Hierro added, “He hasn’t said a word to us this whole time, he only asked for you”

“I’m not the right person to go in there” muttered Iker, looking specifically up at Hierro who could understand his reasons better than he did himself.

“I’m sorry kid,” Hierro ignored his pleading looks, “he needs to have the surgery right this moment and if he wants you in order to sign those papers, he’ll have you”

“I can’t convince him!” roared Iker, sure that his voice could now be heard throughout the entire stadium, “He’s having hysteria! It’s a kid throwing a tantrum! Slap him upside the head and force him to do the right thing!”

“You must be a wonderful parent!” commented Fernando, adding a sarcastic note to his tone.

Iker ignored him.

“I can’t do this, I won’t do it…” he stated three minutes just before being forcefully pushed inside the staff room to face James...


	4. Chapter 4

 

James was lying in bed, his head facing upwards, staring blankly at the ceiling through his tearstained eyes. He didn’t appear to be much different from when Iker last saw him an hour ago.

The boy lifted himself up using his elbows, the moment he heard the sound of the creaking door and lied back down once he saw his captain making his way inside.

Iker’s presence in that room wasn’t voluntary to say the least. He was there given strict instructions on how to handle the matter and he wasn’t allowed out of that room if he didn’t manage to get James’ signature on the piece of paper that was now in the back pocket of his jeans.

For a few wild seconds there was complete silence, both men choosing to remain quiet for as long as possible. Finally, Iker, who was on a time schedule by his girlfriend, gave up first.

“You asked for me” he said bluntly, “why?”

James hunched his shoulders, shifting his eyes from the ceiling to voluntarily look at Iker, possibly for the first time ever since they met. Usually, even though he hated to admit it, James would prefer to avoid his captain under all cost, something that didn’t go unnoticed by Iker. James couldn’t explain why he felt this way; Iker was nothing but kind to him ever since he joined the club. However, there was still something about him, a certain paternal energy that made him feel uncomfortable around him. It was that same energy he was now craving for.

“Oh no” Iker waved his finger at him, “you don’t get to do that” he demonstrated James’ shoulder movement. “You either tell me why you want me here or I’m out”

James pouted, he didn’t want to tell him the reason but he also didn’t want Iker to leave. Maybe he wouldn’t leave, maybe he was just bluffing.

“Ok, bye now” Iker was clearly not bluffing. He turned round on his heels and walked towards the door.

“No!” James cried, “Don’t leave”

Iker stopped halfway through the room and turned back to face James. Truth be told, he was bluffing because even if he wanted to leave, the door was locked. He was stuck in there, but James didn’t know that.

“You’re here because you feel sorry for me” admitted the boy in a small voice.

Iker raised his eyebrow, probably more confused than he was before.

“You want me here because I feel sorry for you?” he repeated somewhat mockingly, “That’s your big reason? Guess what! Everybody out there feels sorry for you” he pointed at the door where he guessed Carlo’s and Fernando’s ears were pressed against.

“Not for the right reasons” James retorted, “They feel sorry because they spent that much money on somebody who is injured or because I won’t be able to help them win games” he bore his eyes deeper into Iker’s, “you’re sorry for me because you know how it feels”

Iker was so taken aback by those words that he almost lost his balance in his attempt to get as far as humanly possible away from that kid.

“The others, they are afraid to tell me what we all already know” James continued, “I’ll never play again”

It was those words that brought Iker back into his senses.

“You will, if you do the surgery” he said and could’ve sworn that he heard a sigh of relief coming from behind the door, a sigh that belonged to either Ancelotti or Hierro or both.

“I’m not an idiot” James reached down to softly touch his injured leg. “If I do the surgery, it’ll take months, years even till I can move again, much less play”

“For somebody who’s not an idiot, you sure know how to act like one” Iker told him off, “You do this and you can play again someday, sooner or later that depends on you but if you choose to chicken out of this, you might as well never walk again”

James cringed, his head pressing so hard against his pillow it looked as if he wanted to disappear inside of it.

“I’m done either way, I know it” he spoke, putting every last pit of power he had left in him to keep his voice steady. “My father…” he began reluctantly, “he was once a football player”

Iker nodded, he was well aware of that fact. It was one of the first things that became public knowledge during James’ success in the world cup.

“He was very good” James continued, “he had just managed to get himself in a great team, he was making some money, earning the love of the fans” the boy stopped to swallow the knot forming in his throat. “His life was p…perfect” he stuttered.

“You’re not him” Iker stated, fully aware now where this story was going. “You don’t have to be like him”

“History is repeating itself. He got injured, and his life was over. He began drinking, he left my mom and me and he never recovered…”

“Let me tell you something” Iker cut him off, growing a tad impatient, “just because your father was a coward who chose to run instead of fighting for his dream and his family, that doesn’t mean you owe him to do the same”

James lowered his eyes and whispered something that sounded a lot like, “ _you don’t understand…_ ”

“That’s right. I don’t understand. I don’t understand why a talented and smart boy like you would choose to live in the shadow of a man that never provided anything for him!” Iker stopped. He was yelling, taking out his frustration on an injured kid.

“Listen,” he walked towards James and rested his hand on top of the boy’s head, this time his voice coming out far more calm and tender, “I know I’m not your father and I know I don’t have the right to tell you what to do. But, I also have a son and if Martin was ever in the same situations that you are now—I swear, I would kick his ass all the way to that hospital and force him to get the damn surgery”

“You’re right” James sat up, throwing Iker’s hand off of him, “you’re not my father and soon you won’t even be my Captain, so you don’t have to stay here any longer”

Iker didn’t appear to mind James’ reaction.

“That still won’t stop me from kicking your ass” He pulled the release form from his back pocket and left it on the bed next to the boy. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. Sign it”

 

* * *

 

 

“He signed it?” Hierro held the form next to the lamp of Ancelotti’s office, as if to make sure it wasn’t a forgery. “What did you say to him?”

Iker rolled his eyes at him, something that he hasn’t done ever since he was seventeen and Hierro was scolding him.

“The important thing is that he signed it” said Ancelotti, not interested in Iker’s methods as much as his results. “Good job, Capitán” he clapped Iker on the shoulder. “You earned yourself some rest”

Iker didn’t wait to be told twice and left the office in a hurried pace. He was tired and wanted nothing more but to go home and sleep for the rest of the week, but he couldn’t. There was a promise that he gave to James, one that he couldn’t break.


End file.
